


some times are softer than others

by meekinheritance



Series: we are soft [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Smut, Subspace, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, Vaginal Sex, Wade made sure, use of the word "cunt" because that's the word Peter likes in this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekinheritance/pseuds/meekinheritance
Summary: Wade and Peter play rooftop tag, but it's just a means to an end.(shameless smut. companion fic towe are all meant for softer thingsbut you don't need to read it to understand what's happening, because. well. it's just smut.)





	some times are softer than others

**Author's Note:**

> uuuuh. smut. just smut. i'm not sorry. someone mentioned in the comments that they wanted rooftop tag that ended in smut and...yeah. so. 
> 
> i'll just leave this here. enjoy ~<3

“ _Gotcha_ ,” growls the voice in Peter’s ear.

 

A full body shiver runs through him at the feel of Wade at his back. He kind of loves being dragged back under the man when he finally gets ahold of him. It’s always a thrill and so far they’ve made it back to the apartment before collapsing feverishly into bed.

 

But tonight, Peter’s asked for this.

 

Wade had complied immediately, his voice already low with want, and then the game of tag had proceeded across the rooftops. It had taken almost two hours of cat and mouse for Wade to get sneaky enough - he’d gotten better over the last several months, but so had Peter.

 

“Can I have you right here, baby boy?” Wade asks him, pulling his mask up enough so that Peter can breath freely. It’s secondary purposes is that Wade can press kisses to his neck, nipping little hickies into his flesh that will disappear too soon. “Or will you be too loud?”

 

Peter gasps as he finds one of the well hidden zippers on his suit and slides it open, enough to expose his back and rear to the air. It’s cool by contrast and he shudders again, reaching back to clutch at the fabric of Wade’s suit for purchase.

 

“The wind should catch most of your noises,” Wade continues lowly, “but if you’re as loud as usually are - and fuck I hope so, you know what that does to me - someone could hear anyway.”

 

“Mhm, you could,” Peter is already breathless. “You could keep me quiet.”

 

Wade pauses as if to consider it but he gives a small groan that belies his attempt at self control.

 

“I sure could, I sure _can,_ ” he offers in a rumble, pressing firmly against Peter’s back until he’s plastered to the line of him. From above, Peter would disappear from view entirely, caged in by the larger body above his as Wade’s hand slides down the length of his back and between his legs.

 

He’s dipping two fingers into the slick warmth between Peter’s legs, coating them generously, and then drawing them up and back slowly, rubbing over the sensitive pucker of flesh there. Peter is so hot and needy and about to let Wade know it in the form of some incoherent noise when Wade’s free hand clamps over his mouth.

 

“Nhghh,” Peter moans as the full weight of the man settles on him and in the same moment the two fingers slide deep inside. Someone else might be half crushed but Peter is still able to squirm easily, his eyes rolling and fluttering at the feel of him.

 

“That do it for you, baby?” Wade asks, pumping his fingers into his ass over and over, the fullness and slight burn consuming Peter’s mind. He was right, of course, if not for the hand on his mouth he’d be full on shouting. “Here good?”

 

Peter whimpers against the hand.

 

“Mhm, thought so,” Wade approves deeply. “God, I love feeling you move under me like this.”

 

“Ghn,” Peter agrees, giving the smallest buck back onto the fingers.

 

There’s enough wet between Peter’s legs at this point that Wade just has to pause to scoop some off of his thighs before pressing three back inside. Peter’s legs quiver and he pushes at the roof beneath him, pushing himself up into Wade, wishing there was less leather between them.

 

“Go on, tell me what you need, sugar.”

 

Peter whines as the hand begins to leave his mouth and Wade grins into his neck, pausing.

 

“I know, I know, baby boy. I know it’s hard for you to get the words right when I have you all worked up like this, but I gotta know, yeah?”

 

At this point Peter wants everything. He doesn’t even fully understand what Wade is asking him for, he’s just a hot, wet, writhing mess between the heavy warmth of Wade’s body and the cool flat of rooftop beneath him.

 

“Hnh?” Peter manages to slur out against Wade's scarred fingertips, already sounding half wrecked even to his own ears. “...What?”

 

Wade seems to try chuckling, but it comes out broken and greedy instead.

 

“Can I have your cunt tonight, baby boy?” Wade asks slowly, his voice seeming to move in time with the strokes of his fingers where they’re buried behind him. He clenches on them, but he _throbs_ at the same time, his body as conflicted. He feels like a mess. “Or do you need me to fill your ass up even more, hm?”

 

Peter is incapable of making the choice at the moment, or even weighing the options. Instead, he opts to nibble on Wade’s fingers and push back into the fingers.

 

“Fucking fuck. Okay. Yeah, okay, here goes. I can fill you up so good, love, give you everything you need, but you’re gonna need to keep yourself quiet,” Wade whispers, his voice deep and desperate in Peter’s ear. God, he could die or melt or cry, or all three.

 

Instead, Wade wraps his hands around Peter’s hips to draw him upward so that his cock slides between his lips, coating him in the lubricant Peter has been leaking since the start of their game.

 

Then Peter feels two fingers - the pads of Wade’s thumbs, it feels like - pressing against his thoroughly stretched sphincter. Peter’s eyes widen, sensitized to it, pushing back against it.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes out, then chokes on a cry as Wade slowly sinks both thumbs into him to facilitate his grip and in the same motion, pulls Peter back to slip past his folds.

 

He’s soaked enough that there’s practically no resistance at all.

 

“Ghnnnn, God, Wade, oh my gouh, ghuuh, ” Peter keens and babbles at the dual sensations as Wade’s cock and thumbs stretch him open all at once.

 

“That’s right, that’s it,” Wade agrees, rolling his hips. “Just like this. You good, baby?”

 

Peter forgets to keep himself quiet.

 

“So good, so, guhn,” he hears himself say, overflowing in more ways than one. He feels like he’s just nerve endings, just the clap of Wade’s hips against him and the drag of his thumbs as he adjusts his grip to hold him for firmer thrusts.

 

“Bite down on your mask for me, darling, you’re getting so loud and you know I love to hear you but this view is all for me, alright? _Fuck,_ lookit you,” Wade groans and curses a few more times, but his voice is getting murky as he continues languid, rhythmic thrusts.

 

Peter forgets what he’s been asked to do, his jaw slack, all pliant and overstimulated.

 

“Go on, baby, bite down,” Wade says again, a little more firmly this time.

 

Peter finds the edge of his mask where it’s pushed just above his lips and tugs it between his teeth until it bunches up, but it doesn’t do much to stop the moan that builds up from his chest and reverberates through his throat.

 

Wade’s grip tightens, his thumbs digging in more, an edge to his thrust this time that has Peter crying out, saliva dribbling down his chin. He feels himself convulse around Wade’s cock, the soft, wet walls going through a series of spasms. His ass clamps on the thumbs pressed as deep as they can go.

 

It burns as he tightens around them and Peter feels spread open and full to the brim and so, _so good._ He chokes on a cry as it builds, his knees pressing into the unforgiving plane of the roof as he rides back onto him. The fabric of his mask tears a little between his teeth.

 

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it, just like that, I’ve got you, baby, just a little more,” Wade encourages, snapping his hips for the last lap and it’s so deep and smooth and hot and perfect that everything goes white. Wade sinks his teeth into his neck when he comes, leaving a hickie that will last at least until the next evening.

 

Peter is full of heat, both his own and Wade’s. He clutches at Wade’s belt, arms stretched back behind him, keeping him close and deep to ride out the melty, gasping aftermath.

 

At some point Wade’s thumbs make a smooth exit, and then his strong arms are wrapping around him as he gathers his brain cells. It seems to go one by one, trembling and panting until the shockwaves subside. Wade slips his cock out of him next and takes out some tissues and wipes to wipe Peter down while he snuggles in his lap.

 

Soon, they’re all zipped back up, thanks to Wade’s gentle, methodical ministrations. Peter is grateful, because he’s only just remembering how his hands are supposed to work.

 

Wade presses kisses to Peter’s mouth and Peter finds his mind enough to kiss back, lazily exploring each other and nipping lips until his body catches up with the rest of him.

 

“Think you might be about ready for that toy MJ suggested soon,” Wade grins when he pulls away, mouthing down to what Peter is sure must be a blooming bruise from his bite.

 

Peter snorts, but offers his throat easily.

 

“Yeah, once _you’re_ ready for _other_ toy she suggested, sure thing.”

 

Wade snickers into Peter’s shoulder. “...um, challenge _accepted_. It’s win win.”

 

Peter laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, exactly.”

  
  



End file.
